


War Dogs

by AnonEhouse



Series: Starvation Sleep-Deprivation Stories [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Super-soldier treatment doesn't fail, but the results aren't all that dramatic. Steve winds up a soldier in the War Dog program, paired with the Giant Schnauzer, Tony.</p><p>(if the major character death tag disturbs you, read the end note.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Dogs

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Aw, shucks," Steve heard Colonel Phillips say from the control booth, "Close, but no ceegar."

Steve stepped down from the vita-ray capsule. Mr. Stark looked a little disappointed, but Erskine smiled at him. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty good." That was an understatement. He was breathing free and easy, nothing hurt, not even the background ache of a good day. And he could _hear_ , and see, wow, Peggy Carter's lipstick was a beautiful, vibrant, color, not the 'brown' he'd thought it was. He drew a deep breath and he could smell so many things, even a hint of bitter almond.

He looked at Mr. Stark and their eyes were almost on a level. Steve must have grown four inches, at least. He looked down at his chest, and it looked as good as most of the guys in the induction center. At least sixty pounds added then. He was so happy, he would be fit for service, he knew it. Lots of guys weren't even 5'8" and 160 pounds.

The scent of bitter almond came close. Steve was wondering what it was when one of the men who'd come in with the generals shot Erskine and stole the remaining two vials of serum. Steve chased him, he ran as hard as he could, and God, he could run without stopping for breath, but he wasn't... he wasn't superhuman.

He almost caught up, but Peggy was in front of him, standing braced in front of an oncoming car. He could smell the bitter almond from the car's two occupants. He strained, trying to get there to push her to safety.

He failed.

Peggy didn't. She blew neat holes in the foreheads of the enemy agents, still firing as the car struck her and flung her across the street. 

Steve got to her side and threw himself down to cradle her head against his leg. Her lips were redder than ever, and smiling. "Steve. Get. The vials." Then she closed her eyes and went limp. He laid her gently down, taking off his athletic shirt to bundle as a poor pillow for her head, before he retrieved the two vials from the car.

 

Steve never did find out what happened with the vials. Mr. Stark argued that they needed to be analyzed, which would use them up, and the generals argued that they were sure he was holding out and could easily just throw a few chemicals together after looking at a few drops, and they had a couple really strong soldiers ready to go right now, if only he'd turn over the vials.

It wasn't anything to do with Steve anymore, once they finished testing him and found the extent of the serum's effect. He was a normal, healthy man, with far better than normal senses and endurance. That was all. They shuffled him around for a few weeks before reluctantly admitting nothing more was to be learned and they sent him back to the army to be reassigned as a Quartermaster handler to a scout dog.

 

There was more 'hurry up and wait' before Steve wound up at Front Royal, Virginia. An irritated-looking officer met him and looked him over with a disapproving eye, despite Steve's best parade rest. The man sighed. "Ever own a dog?"

Steve answered without blinking. "No, sir."

"Ever wanted to own a dog?"

"No, sir." Steve didn't mention that when he was growing up, the very idea of giving food a person could eat to a yappy animal that served no other purpose than to foul the carpets and bark at inconvenient hours was repugnant. The army had told him he would be a scout with a dog. He didn't figure he had any more choice than the dog, but he'd do his best.

"So, you don't know anything about dogs." Now the man sounded more depressed than irritated.

"I read the manual on the train, sir," Steve offered. "Technical Manual 10-396 WAR DOGS," he added to be precise. "It was very informative, sir."

"He read the manual." The officer was silent for another moment and then he nodded. "Well, that's something I suppose." He turned. "Follow me, soldier, you're going to meet your new partner."

Steve looked down at the shaggy black rug lying in front of its kennel. The dog cocked its head and blinked up at Steve with bright, brown eyes. The eyebrow tufts and whiskery beard gave it an air of rakishness. It was one heck of a big dog. "Normally, we never pair an untrained dog with an untrained man, but Tony's donator insisted the dog be assigned to you. Howard Stark. Apparently he has some pull."

Steve swallowed. He hadn't been in the army long, but long enough to know how much officers hated it when civilians who had no idea what the military was like gave them orders. "I'm sorry sir, I had no idea Mr. Stark would do that. I don't even know how he found out I was to be assigned to the War Dogs unit."

"Well, maybe it'll work out. But if it doesn't I'm not ruining a potentially good dog, you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Steve saluted. The dog sneezed.

 

Tony was a handful. He never outright disobeyed, but Steve could see him thinking it over before he went along with Steve's commands. After a week, Steve figured the main problem was that Tony had too much energy and he got permission to take Tony for more rounds over the hurdles, and jogs around the camp in between scheduled training sessions. He got used to patting the soft, warm fur when Tony had done something right, and felt bad when Tony was stubborn and had to be punished by returning to the kennel earlier than usual. Tony would lay his head on his paws and give Steve huge, sad eyes and make him feel it was all his fault, even though he knew Tony understood what he was to do, and was just trying to see who was boss.

Well, Steve was boss. He wasn't going to ruin Tony by coddling him, and letting him getting away with being spoiled. He suspected Howard had bought the dog for its looks and pedigree, and then not spent enough time with it to actually teach it about people. It took a few weeks, but Tony learned to prick up his ears and pay attention when Steve approached, and to put on his serious manners when Steve put on the special flat leather 'work' collar, a signal all the dogs learned.

Tony was a bit of a surprise when it came to teaching him not to fear gunfire. He barely flicked an ear. Of course, knowing Howard, that made sense. And instead of being car-sick, he leaped into the truck and wagged his tail like mad, no matter how fast it went. Tony loved speed.

After thirteen weeks, Tony had become almost a part of Steve, a reliable companion who could think for himself when necessary, but obeyed orders unquestioningly. That had been the hardest part. Tony was really too smart to be a soldier.

 

Tony loved it when they were shipped overseas to be assigned to a unit. He and Steve jogged miles around and around the deck, and played games of 'fetch' and 'seek my scent' and even though Steve felt a little guilty about it, because the instructors said it ruined a dog to train him for more than one branch, Steve taught Tony things that really belonged to the messenger, casualty and attack branches. Tony was really smart and he didn't have trouble shifting mentally between the roles, and there were plenty of bored young soldiers happy to help play aggravators or victims. Steve guessed he was being an overachiever, but hey, he might not be a super-soldier, but he'd be the best darn Scout possible. The only thing he really couldn't teach Tony was the full Messenger role- for that a dog had to accept two handlers, and Steve sure wasn't going to risk dividing his loyalty with any of these soldiers they'd never meet again.

When they arrived Steve stepped off the transport ramp with Tony precisely at heel, strutting and putting on a show, as he did whenever things weren't serious and there was an audience. Steve was pretty sure Tony had been a show dog, back in the days when rich folks showed off that way instead of by donating them to the war effort. From time to time, Steve had to remind himself that Tony was a loan, and after the war, he'd be retrained for civilian life and sent back to Howard. But Howard wasn't a bad guy, and Steve thought he might be able to buy the dog from him. It was nice to have someone who just plain liked Steve as Steve. There hadn't really been anyone like that for him, except Bucky, and maybe, maybe... Peggy... but you know, having a dog was pretty swell, too.

Steve stopped at the assignment desk on the dock to present his papers. The clerk glanced at them, then stopped before stamping them. "You've been reassigned to another unit." He pulled out another stack of papers, compared them with the one Steve had handed him, and stamped them. "One oh seven. You'll find your transport at the end of the dock."

"Yes, sir!" Steve said, saluting smartly as he took back the papers. He had a hard time not grinning like a fool. Mr. Stark must have pulled some more strings, and Steve didn't care at all. He'd be in Bucky's unit.

 

"So," Bucky said, "Vitamins?" He looked Steve over and grinned. "You're looking good, punk."

"You still got three inches on me," Steve said, but he was grinning even more widely.

"Yeah, but you got a dog! That is a dog, isn't it?" Bucky looked at Tony warily. Tony was using his eyebrows to scowl. Steve wasn't sure how a dog could scowl, but he did. "I don't think he likes me."

"He's not supposed to. Scouts should be a one-man dog." They were sitting in a tent, chewing the fat when a brilliant idea came to Steve. "But Tony's really smart. He could be a messenger dog, too. You know, teach him to go between us. He's my friend. I'd like you to make friends with him, too."

"Well, all right. What do I do?" 

"Let him smell your hand." Steve petted Tony and praised him while Bucky held out his hand, until Tony finally gave a tentative wag of his tail and looked at Steve for approval. "That's my good boy."

 

Tony had all sorts of silent 'tells' and Steve had learned what most of them meant. They were as usual walking silent point well ahead of the infantry in the broken woods when Tony paused. He didn't point, raise his hackles or hold his tail out stiffly, so it wasn't a hidden enemy. But there was something. His ears were up and he was shifting from paw to paw, as if uncertain that what he had noticed was worth reporting. Steve decided to let Tony go with his instincts. He gave him the signal to investigate, and then moved to lie under cover, just in case. His heart was racing, hoping he hadn't sent Tony into a trap. That's what the dogs were for. They were supposed to take the risks first. 

Tony bounded off, as quiet as a hundred pound dog in an unmaintained forest could be. 

Several minutes later, Tony returned, dragging a leather messenger pouch, blood-stained and covered in dirt, and bearing the Hydra symbol. Steve didn't try to open it, but he figured it must be important, important enough that a dying messenger had tried to bury it. He gave Tony a quick pat for reward and turned to head back to the unit. He'd have to hand this in immediately, let th....

And then the world erupted, shells exploding, trees bursting all around. He started running but only got a few paces before something just took his legs out from him and he fell, clinging stubbornly to the messenger pouch. The shelling stopped after a few seconds. He got to his knees and managed to crawl, with Tony pressing against his side, but he fell again. He tried dragging himself by his arms, but it was no good. "Here," he said to Tony. "Take it." He pressed the strap of the messenger pouch against Tony's mouth until the dog accepted it. "Take it. Take it to Bucky. Good boy." He patted Tony once more before lying down to try to catch his breath. He was so dizzy. He just needed to rest. Tony's cold nose pressed against his cheek, and then he heard Tony running away. "Good dog," Steve murmured. The woods were pretty quiet now. It wasn't a bad place to rest. He was cold, that was all. 

Steve roused when he heard something coming. He tried to get his weapon, but he couldn't find it. A moment later he felt Tony snuffling at him. "Told you. Go to Bucky." Steve couldn't see, it had got dark somehow, but he felt along Tony's mouth and down his side. The pouch was gone. Tony whined and twitched when Steve felt a large wet patch on his chest. "Aww. Good boy. Good dog." Tony licked his cheek and then lay down beside Steve. It was warmer. Steve petted Tony and closed his eyes.

 

Being invalided out wasn't so bad, Steve told himself. There were still some pretty nice parts of London, and everyone had a kind word and a cup of tea or a biscuit for a pair of wounded soldiers. Bucky had got the pouch to someone, and something important had happened. Steve didn't know the details. You didn't ask, but suddenly Hydra really wasn't a problem. That was worth Steve's bum legs, and the scar on Tony's chest where the fur refused to grow back. He wouldn't be a show dog anymore, which was the excuse Mr. Stark had given when he signed Tony over to Steve. They meandered slowly along, Steve leaning on his cane, looking for a park they'd been told of, where a dog might be off leash without getting into trouble.

Tony stiffened, and abruptly he went from limping to strutting. Steve could practically feel the electricity running from the leash. He smiled even as he sighed. There hadn't been many opportunities in the field to discover it, but Tony was definitely a ladies' man. "All right, but be a gentleman," he said, seeing a beautifully groomed standard black poodle being walked by a woman a few blocks ahead. The woman had a cane of her own, so he was fairly sure they could catch up without looking ridiculous.

"Excuse me," Steve started to say as he approached, not wishing to frighten the lady, but as she turned he stopped, mouth agape. "Peggy?"

"Steve," Peggy replied calmly. She reached out with her cane to tap his. "I see we're on equal footing now."

"I thought. I thought you were dead." Steve couldn't help staring, taking in every aspect of her face. She had new lines, lines of pain, he would think, but they only added to her beauty. Her eyes were as bright and her mouth as boldly scarlet as he remembered.

"I know. Everything's secrets these days."

Steve felt a tug on his hand. Tony was sniffing noses with Peggy's dog, which snapped at him and then licked his nose. "Well, not everything. Tony's a pretty honest fella."

Peggy grinned. "That I heard. Howard visited me in hospital and told me about him." She tilted her head. "I inherited Bon Bon from a friend. Come." She put her free hand through Steve's crooked elbow. "I have a house. We can sit and discuss everything that's not secret."

"I'd like that." They strolled along the street, detouring around rubble, and around elderly folk with push brooms and dust pans sweeping things into piles, until they reached a typical house with windows neatly brown-papered and chunks of brickwork missing. 

Peggy waved to a curious neighbor and then led them inside and straight to the back, where there was a small kitchen and a door leading to a minuscule garden, mostly consisting of two tattered rose bushes and a small vegetable patch. She opened the door and let the poodle off the leash and into the garden before shutting and locking the door, including a bolt slide. Tony sat down and stared at the door. "Will he be all right here?" she asked Steve, indicating Tony.

"Sure." Steve unclipped Tony from the leash.

"Good, I have a few bottles of good wine in the sitting room." She smiled. "I can't get milk for tea, but somehow there's always wine."

"That's all right, I never was much of a tea man, myself."

 

They were chatting, so comfortable, not about anything in particular. Steve had his hand on Peggy's, and her eyes were bright on his, and he thought he really couldn't be happier, just to sit in this musty old room with chromolithographs and wax flowers on the table, and huge, faded cabbage rose wallpaper, with Peggy and talk about dogs and the funny things they did, and how nice it would be after the war to have a real house, with a real yard, where the dogs could run, and maybe play with children. Steve wasn't sure where the children came into it, but somehow they had, and it all sounded really swell.

And then there was a YIP.

"Oh, my God. Bon Bon!" There was a briefly ridiculous struggle when they each grabbed the other's cane, before they sorted themselves out, and hobbled to the kitchen at their best pace.

The kitchen door swung wide open, all the locks dripping with dog drool. Bon Bon and Tony were... well, they certainly weren't fighting. Steve sighed. "I forgot to order Tony not to do that."

Peggy stared at Steve for a moment and then she burst out laughing, before taking his arm and turning back towards the sitting room. "Well, now you simply must stay, to see how the puppies turn out!"

"Yeah." Steve grinned so wide his mouth hurt. "Yeah, I wouldn't want Tony to be a deadbeat dad."

**Author's Note:**

> The character is presumed dead, but gets better.


End file.
